


I Don't Like To Pretend That I Could Be Your Friend

by goldenicarus



Series: X/MCU [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternative Universe - X-Men in the MCU, Developing Friendships, F/M, Gen, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Team Bonding, Wakanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 12:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12582120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenicarus/pseuds/goldenicarus
Summary: AU where the X-Men/Mutants are in the MCU and Steve gets some help breaking his team out of the Raft.





	I Don't Like To Pretend That I Could Be Your Friend

**Author's Note:**

> This is way longer than I was expecting it to get. This is unbeta'd, sorry for any grammar issues.  
> The X-Men are not from any established movie; these are, technically, my own recreations with their own pasts and relationships in the MCU.  
> The face-cast I have for Kurt is Ludi Lin.  
> Title taken from "Evil Friends" by Portugal. The Man.  
> Enjoy!

Wakanda reminds Steve of worlds he read about in novels; gleaming and bright, brimming with possibility and evolution. Almost how he envisioned Rivendell, when he had scraped up enough money to buy  _The Hobbit_  on his 19th birthday - a sheltered yet beautiful utopia. He would dream of living in such peace; Wakanda is what he imagined the future  _would_ be. Unfortunately, he exists in reality.

He has little time to explore this new territory; the subject of  _Bucky_ hangs over his head like a guillotine. T’Challa promises they can help his friend; Wakandan neurologists could rid his mind of the trigger code for the Winter Soldier. As they discuss this, though, Bucky stays silent. Steve already knows what’s going through his mind: he cannot be rid of the Winter Soldier, it’s too far ingrained in his being to be wiped out.

“Think about it,” The King suggests, “you do not have to make the decision right away.”

Bucky agrees to that proposal before he’s carted off to a medical wing. Steve is given the same option but he turns it away, knowing the serum is already doing it’s job. He will be bruised tomorrow, but his open wounds will heal by tonight.

He finds himself lost when escorted to a temporary room -  _very_ temporary, T’Challa made clear. Unsure of what to do, his mind wanders, reliving the events of the past day. The Avengers have been disbanded, scattered to sanctuaries or hidden bunkers. Even palaces; he's certain the news will reach headlines within the hour.  _His_  team, however, is still together. They now share cells under the sea.

Steve knows staying low and off radar, like T’Challa’s been insisting, is not something he can do just yet. Not until the Raft is empty.

He's almost relieved when an older woman - Okoye, he believes is her name - enters his room. “The King,” She explains, “requests an audience with you.”

* * *

“You're going back for them.” T’Challa says, he doesn’t ask. When he had requested Steve’s presence, there was only a slim possibility that the King knew what he was planning. Now, as he stands in the center of a throne room, it’s confirmed.

“I'm not going to ask for help.” Is his reply, because he knows where these conversations lead. “You’ve done more than enough.”

T’Challa doesn't react. He stays seated, and though is posture is relaxed his gaze is intense, watching every tremor that Steve feels run through his body.  _Both warrior and King_ ; Steve understands the kind of power this man possesses.

Their connection is broken when a woman enters the room. Her appearance is similar to the guards at the outer walls of the chamber, her armor differing only in color: green rather than red. She briefly raises her arms, forming an X in front of her bowed head in salute. “The Queen wishes to see you.” Her voice echoes off crimson walls streaked with black. T’Challa’s stoic demeanor suddenly shifts and he nearly rises out his chair. “Who’s stopping her?” He sounds as if he's teasing. The woman doesn't leave as Steve expects. He doesn't miss the sharp glance she gives him, nor T’Challa’s soft, “It’s alright, Nakia.”

She nods, stiff and smart, before turning to exit the room. Steve squares his shoulders; the Queen, he thinks, must be T’Challa’s mother. He has yet to meet her; the only member of T’Challa’s family he had encountered since his arrival was Shuri, who had introduced herself, gave T’Challa a look of what could only be caution, and promptly left the room.

A sharp, “Rogers,” brings him back to their conversation. “You understand the danger of a rescue mission.” T’Challa frowns, “You’ll be putting lives at risk, again.”

“I’ll go alone.” Steve responds immediately, “I don't want to put your country at any danger-”

“My people,” T’Challa says, “are not who  _you_ should worry for.”

Their conversation comes to another halt with the creaking of large chamber doors. “I do hope you're not planning to leave, again.” Comes an unfamiliar voice - demanding yet still gentle, and though hinted with an accent it's not as thick as T’Challa’s. Steve thinks it might be comical, how fast he turns to meet this voice.

Closing the throne doors behind her is a woman much too young to be T’Challa’s mother; she cannot be older than thirty, with strong blue eyes and smooth features. However, her hair is a stunning outlier - currently braided tight, spun atop her head into a bun, and undeniably white.

Steve recalls how elves and angels were described in his books: beautiful and dominating. She carries herself how he imagined one would, with grace and power. He hears T’Challa’s feet hit the ground in paced steps, crossing the room to meet her.

“ _uthando lwam_.” He says.

“ _isithandwa_.” She returns.

The hug they share appears suffocating, too tight and close. When the woman turns to embrace the King, the space she leaves behind her is not vacant, as Steve presumed.

He doesn't know how he failed to notice the boy, for now he stands out among strangers. A simple, armor-less black suit and red ‘v’ streak is what Steve first sees. The people of Wakanda, warrior or not, seem to share styles of fashion, often with swirling colors or decorative themes.

This newcomer does not appear to belong here, though it's not just due to the unusual outfit. His features are of Chinese descent and a pair of sharpened swords are sheathed in a scabbard on his back;  _rapiers_. It’s an odd choice of weaponry, given the women surrounding them have more advanced security. The stranger gives T’Challa a curt nod before his focus is on Steve.

In that moment, Steve’s attention is brought back to the couple as they pull out of their embrace. Then he finds more interest in the floor when they kiss.

“Captain Rogers,” T’Challa’s voice sounds light, as if he'd been laughing. His eyes snap back up as T’Challa makes his way over, the woman almost attached at his hip. “This is Ororo Munroe.” He introduces, “Queen of Wakanda.”

Steve’s immediate response is to bow, but all he manages is lowering his head before Ororo says, “Don’t you dare.”

When he lifts his gaze, she's smiling, “You do not have to treat me with formality.”

Steve hesitates to nod, glancing back to the stranger when he steps forwards and murmurs to the Queen. “Right,” She says, looking back to T’Challa, “I can return after you've finished plans, here.”

“We aren't planning anything.” Steve interrupts without thought. He can feel the scowls of T’Challa’s guards burning into his back, yet he adds, “It's only me. He doesn't need to help.” The stranger has stepped closer, likely in response to his outburst at  _royalty_. He can already hear Bucky calling him a dumbass.

Steve had mistaken this newcomer for just a boy, but his age was merely masked by distance; he must be near Ororo’s age, perhaps two years younger, and is lean in stature. His straightened posture now adds height, as if he were trying to appear larger and intimidating. The glare he’s sending Steve’s way when he’s caught staring only feeds the theory. Steve takes in his square jawline and sharp cheekbones, all aiding his youthful appearance, before looking back to T’Challa.

“All I can tell you is to be careful.” The King warns. Ororo’s expression has turned sorrowful, “They may not hesitate to kill you, this time.”

* * *

When he is finally given permission to be escorted back to his room, Steve no longer feels lost. He gathers anything he believes will be useful to the others, such as unused medical supplies left for him. Then, of course, someone’s at his door. They don't burst in as Okoye had; they knock first, considerate. When the young woman enters, Steve recognizes her as  _Nakia_.

“The Queen would like to speak with you.” She says.

“When?”

“Now.”

She turns out the doorway before Steve can get out another sound.

He follows her down a hall lit dim; the moon's luminescence shining through the pillars that line the corridor. Ororo notices him the moment he has turned the corner and he straightens his posture accordingly. Nakia stands guard at the hall’s end.

“You wanted to see me, ma’am?” He asks, near whispering.

The smile he receives is hospitable. “I have a proposition.” Steve tenses, suddenly on edge. “We cannot stop you from wanting to save your friends.” The Queen continues, “But I want to give help, if you would take it.”

Every fiber of Steve’s being is screaming to say no; meeting with T’Challa’s wife alone is enough of an offense, but to make a deal with her without his knowledge after all he’s offered - Steve cannot begin to imagine the consequences for the betrayal.

He opens his mouth to thank her and turn the suggestion away, but Ororo’s eyes flicker down the hall. She quickly adds, “I would like to wait until my friend has joined us.”

If he wasn't worried of being found before, now he feels the way his heartbeat spikes. He turns with an apology on his lips. But he does not see T’Challa coming towards them, nor Okoye.

He sees a young man, no longer dressed in a form-fitting suit and lacking his rapiers, appearing ordinary in Wakandan wear.  _The Queen’s Protector_.

Steve thinks he can glimpse a lingering smile on the guards’ lips before it’s replaced with a disturbed expression as his attention dances from Nakia to Steve. “ _What are you doing with him alone?_ ” His whispered words are French, meant only for Ororo’s ears.

Her calm demeanor falters, teetering on irritation. She first replies, ” _I’m not alone_ ," then, “ _I want to offer support. He wants to save his team-_ ”

“ _Why should that concern you?_ ”

“ _Excuse me_ ,” Steve decides to interrupt. The shock that flashes over the protector’s face almost makes Steve laugh, but he continues, “ _if you are going to speak of me, do it in English or a language I do not know._ ”

The guard’s eyes narrow, as if he were studying Steve. Then he looks back to Ororo and speaks again, “ _Ich kann ihm nicht helfen_.”

Ororo only blinks at the new language, but responds easily, “ _Du kannst, du könntest hinein_.”

“ _Fein_.” The word is spoken quickly, “ _Dann will ich nicht_.”

They begin to speak softer. Steve is only able to pick up bits of their words, but even then he doesn’t know what they say; his German is rusty, at best.

The guard is clearly better versed in the language, the words roll off his tongue with ease where the Queen struggles with pronunciation.

“Alright, Ororo.” The switch to English pulls Steve’s focus back into the conversation. His voice is softer now, and though Steve’s handling of the vocabulary is weak, he can recognize the heavy accent of a native tongue. He was right about this man being severely out of place in Wakanda; he _is_ German, likely born and raised.

The protector spares Steve one look, full of annoyance and a hint of fear. “Only if T’Challa agrees.”

* * *

T’Challa agrees, rather enthusiastically, to the plan. Ororo’s protector will help lead Steve inside the Raft, then bring the team back to Wakanda for a brief time. It’s simple in theory, and smarter than having the Wakandan army infiltrate or letting Steve try alone. Whether they can pull it off is another subject.

“We’ll need a plane.” He states. T’Challa nods without hesitation, “And someone who can pilot.”

“We have one.” The protector says from his place besides Ororo’s throne. And that cements it - they will go alone, limiting numbers and hopefully their chances of being caught.

It takes a day for preparations, so Steve spends it in Bucky’s chamber. What remains of his left arm is wrapped in a black bandage, and most of his scars have already healed. He looks better, but not how Steve hopes.  _We may never be okay_ , he must remind himself.

“You’re dumber than I remember.” He says, rather blunt after Steve had explained the situation.

Whether he's teasing or not, Steve replies with a frown. “I need to do this.”

“You  _need_  to learn the difference between need and want.”

Steve leans back in the seat he set up besides Bucky’s bed, crossing his arms over his chest. “The other options are I either go alone or let them sit in cells.” He tries to justify. Bucky opens his mouth to argue, so he quickly adds on, “They were only trying to help.”

Bucky’s jaw snaps shut and clenched tight, his attention turning to the wall behind Steve. He can already see Bucky’s thoughts clouding up, expression turning dark, so he attempts to stomp them out by shifting the blame Bucky will project into himself: “I can't leave them. They fought for something Istarted.”

“Stark started.” Bucky corrects.

Steve lets out a light, breathless laugh. When Bucky looks to him again, it's with a hard stare, “So the best option is to go with a stranger?”

“It's the safest.” He says, because it's not the route he wants to go. But, stubborn as he is, Steve won't turn away needed aid. Bucky appears ready to argue, but the words dye on his tongue as his shoulders slump forwards.

“If you both get caught,” He shakes his head, “that kid might kill you before Ross gets the chance.”

* * *

Steve would love to glimpse at Tony’s face if he ever sees Wakandan technology; he imagines there would be a mixture of awe and the pain of a crumbling ego. Compared to ships Tony has designed, Wakandan jets are far beyond his advancements.

The large interior cannot be predicted from outside eyes. The controls are more confusing than any vehicle Steve has encountered; suddenly, he’s very glad he doesn't have to pilot.

After his glance around the cabin, he wanders back to the entrance. Two engineers are still poking at the outside of the jet in last minute adjustments, but Steve finds the most interest in the couple at the base of the hanger. The Queen and her protector had been quietly discussing between each other since they had arrived that morning.

The guard is dressed in the outfit Steve knows - black and red, with swords attached to his back. He doesn't appear as stoic as Steve recalls, and now he can see that the guard smiles. It's a wide, bright grin which reaches his eyes and seems to alight them; not a smile, he thinks, befitting a deadly protector.

When he reaches up to place a stray strand of the Queen’s hair behind her ear, Steve notes that his hands are formed with his fingers together in pairs, like the gesture used in the  _Star Trek_  show Clint had pressured him to watch. It's odd how Steve hadn't noticed before. Then again, there is little he knows about this man.

Ororo runs her fingers over a device on his wrist - a watch - murmuring as she does. The guard only nods along, and Steve catches lips as he replies ‘I will.’

He doesn't come aboard until Ororo has left the pad, and when he does turn to face Steve his expression is once again blank. He maneuvers his way around the super soldier and heads straight to the cockpit.

Steve watches from the cabin as he flips switches, turns dials, and presses buttons, more than familiar with the technology. Then he decides to say, “I don’t think I’ve caught your name.”

Silence accompanies the tense space between the cockpit and himself. Steve can almost hear the guard’s thoughts - weighing the pros and cons of trusting him with such information. When he speaks up, Steve almost misses it: “Kurt Wagner.”

It's more of an answer than he expected - a full name rather than a first. It's progress, he thinks; a sign of trust. They'll need such assurance to succeed. “It’s nice to meet you, Kurt.”

Kurt’s only reply is a soft hum.

* * *

It feels like hours since they had taken off, with nothing but silence and miles of stretched ocean to keep Steve entertained. He had tried to start conversations again, but continually received quick, one-word replies or nothing at all.

Kurt was a mystery, purposely keeping himself closed up. Steve wants to change that. When he pauses at the doorway to the cockpit, a blinking light on the control panel catches his eye first:  _Autopilot_.

Kurt, meanwhile, is mulling over a blueprint in his lap. The design of the building is odd, with hundreds of floors mapped out. When he spies the name of the project, it finally clicks into place.

“You know where they are on the Raft?” Kurt only spares him a glance before returning back on the map.

“Given your team is mostly unpowered, I believe they'd be kept in the upper level.” He pauses, “For low threats.”

Thus ends of their longest conversation. So, Steve persists, “Where did you get those plans?”

“ _Herr_ Stark did not expect the King to snoop.” Steve thinks he can hear a tinge of amusement in Kurt’s tone. Yet again, that ends their discussion. Steve is not used to being ignored. Typically, he doesn't think he would mind the space Kurt is giving him. But when trust and communication is a principle component of their mission, he finds the disregard rather irritating.

So, he does what he’s known for: behaves stubborn. Sitting himself down in the empty copilot seat, Steve stares the younger man down until he finally looks up from his study. “You don’t like me.” He guesses. Kurt, surprisingly, smiles.

“You're observant.”

When he doesn't break their contact, Steve presses, “Why?”

“Would you like the truth,” Kurt starts, folding the map up and finally giving Steve his full attention, “or what you want to hear?”

The choices both hold benefit; if he tells Steve what he’d like, that they could work together and ignore the odd, built up tension. The mission may be steady. However, Steve isn't sure he could work alongside someone, or form any connection, based on a lie. He ultimately decides: “Truth.”

Kurt doesn't reply for a passing beat, and Steve worries he's shut him out again. Then, with a heavy breath, he confesses, “I don’t like those who won’t get involved in situations they know are wrong.” The answer is candid and unexpected. It leaves Steve reeling, trying to flip to the page Kurt is on.

“What do you mean?” He asks, coming up blank.

“The Accords would not have impacted your team alone, Captain.” He clarifies, “Within the fine print, the Accords called for the registration and surveillance of  _all_  superhuman beings. There lied a law labelled ‘The Mutant Registration Act.’ It demands all people born with superhuman abilities and their kin be registered.” His gaze turns frigid.

“You did not take action against the Accords until you realized Barnes wouldn’t be given a fair trial. Until then, you had done nothing more than stay quiet. And your silent protest would not have prevented the Accords from passing. You’re at fault for the law’s advancement.”

Steve says nothing; he doesn't know what he  _can_  say. He had read through the Accords, though very briefly and in a room of arguments and tension. He must have missed the mention of such a law.

When Kurt rises, Steve’s posture straightens. “So yes, Captain Rogers. I do not like you much.” He disappears to the back of the cabin, leaving Steve to suffocate in his thoughts.

* * *

Understanding where Kurt's anger stemmed from didn't make the truth easier. The words hung heavy against his shoulders, weighing him down.

What did change was Kurt; after the confession,  _he_  began conversations, revealed his blinding smile more, nearly becoming a new person. Steve no longer felt like he was sharing a jet with the Queen’s protector, but rather an optimistic soldier on his first mission.

“If you hate me, why did you agree to help?” Steve decides to ask when Kurt had wandered to the back of the jet after taking control for another hour. He seems to tense at the question, so Steve adds, “T’Challa could have found someone else to bring me.”  _Or I could've come alone_.

Kurt stays quiet for a passing minute, then two, busying himself by reapplying his swords to a ledge. “I don’t hate you. I’m upset with you. But, you saved a friend of mine, in the war.” He admits.

The revelation stuns Steve; he's been in several fights, yes. He's not sure he would call any a true war, except for one. But, a man this young knowing someone from World War II? It’s not an impossible friendship, he supposes, just highly unlikely.

“What's his name?” He asks, though he's not sure he’ll even remember. When Kurt smiles, he knows he won't.

“He went by James back then. But, I’m sure you knew many.” Steve almost laughs - it’s nice Kurt feels comfortable enough to joke. “What better way to thank you.” He continues, leaving the weapons and heading back to the cockpit. “Ororo also asked nicely.” He adds at the entrance.

Steve does laugh then. “How do you know the Queen?” He asks, because Kurt’s finally opening up; he doesn't want the kid to close himself up again.

Kurt hovers in the doorway, right hand curling into a fist before releasing. “We were on a team together.” A pause. “It’s been disbanded.”

Kurt leaves it at that and Steve lets him. “But you stayed together?”

He thinks Kurt laughs, soft and quiet, “Not at first.”

Steve waits for him to continue, for another profession or insight to his life. When he’s met with silence, he decides to move on. “How did she meet T’Challa?” Because the King is enough of an enigma, but having a wife is difficult to keep quiet about.

“She can retell the story better than I.” He states, that easy smile returning, “But, given she has held the titles of warrior and Goddess, Queen seemed like a logical step forwards.”

* * *

Steve doesn't know what signals that they’ve found the Raft first. It may be his gut. It may be the way the jets’ speed slows. It may be Kurt shouting their arrival from the cockpit. Steve is off his seat in a heartbeat, ready to open the hanger. From the window, all he sees is ocean. They must be hovering above it, the surface hidden by crashing waves.

He can maybe survive a jump, and maybe find a way inside. Getting his team to the surface, he realizes as the hanger opens, might be near impossible.

He’s too focused on his last-minute plan to remember  _Kurt_  until the pilot is by his side. “May I ask what you are doing, Captain?” Kurt’s giving him a perplexed look as he adjusts his scabbard, but before Steve has the chance to try and defend jumping out of the jet, he says, “My purpose is to get you in and out of the Raft safely.”

Steve expects a better detailed, complicated plan to getting them inside. What he gets is Kurt closing the door and outstretching his hand. Steve almost mimicked the bafflement Kurt had given him. He comes up short when trying to jump to his own conclusions - what kind of plan could Kurt’s be? In a reality of magic, monsters, and Gods, he doubts anything will surprise him now.

“Please allow me to do my job.” Kurt’s lips are pursed, almost in irritation at his silence.  _Ironic_ , Steve thinks. He takes Kurt’s hand and inhales quick when he suddenly tightens the grip. “You might be a bit disoriented afterwards. That is normal.” He warns. Steve has no chance to ask what he means.

The world around them shifts, twisting and turning into odd forms before disappearing completely. He feels the solid metal of the jets floor fall from under him, only to be replaced with smooth tiles a second later. When the world comes back, Steve feels as if he’s been thrown into a wall. Thirty times.

“What happened?” He asks, once he feels able to breathe.

“We teleported.” Kurt answers nonchalant, as if their transportation method was common.

The younger man is completely unaffected by their trip, already scanning the corridors around them. Steve doesn't see any device adept for transporting them so quickly and precisely - even then, it was enough to disorientate a super soldier, Kurt should be somewhat adrift. Unless, Steve realizes, it  _is_  a common form of transport for him.

Suddenly, Kurt’s deep interest in the Accords and his anger towards Steve’s silence makes sense. “You're a mutant.”

The younger man halts his scanning immediately, muscles tensing under his suit. “We need to get moving.” Is all he says before pacing down the rest of their hall and rounding a corner.

* * *

 The halls of the Raft are near identical, yet Kurt has no trouble finding his way through. Only twice do they get caught, and twice does Steve engage action to prevent alarm. The mission, as a whole, is running smoothly. In Steve's experience, this means something will go terribly wrong, very soon.

This trouble doesn't make itself clear until the duo have rounded a corner and find a steel-clad door.

“The cells holding your team should be attached to this room.” Kurt starts, and Steve feels his chest tighten. Even with his strength, he can't pry this entrance open. “There may be ten soldiers standing guard,” Kurt decides to add, “give or take a few.”

“Should we find a way around?” He asks, sparing a glance behind them.

Kurt shakes his head. “This is the quickest. Their video records are here, too. If we did find another way in, they would see us.”

Steve’s mind reels, creating a plan of his own. “So, we clear the room and destroy their system.”

Kurt’s gaze flickers about, as if imagining the scenario. Then he nods and reaches to unsheath his swords. Steve reaches for his arm: “Don't kill anyone.”

Kurt only grins, broad and bright. His arm drops, “Do not worry, Captain. That is not my style.”

When the realm falls away, Steve is better prepared. He keeps his body still, though he's certain he’s moving against his will. When the world comes back, soldiers swim into view. Kurt had been right; there were at most twelve people, including those manning controls.

He only manages to see a glimpse of the tapes - of Sam, specifically - before the guards are rising into stance and blocking his sight.

“ _Hallo!_ ” Kurt sounds awfully chipper for someone about to be shot, “Sorry to drop in unannounced.” For a moment, Steve is certain they'll die - they have no protection, and for all his gifts he’s not bulletproof. The guards all take aim, ready to fire.

Kurt strikes first.

He evades two guards before him as they fire, while one to his right abruptly falls back - pushed by a force unseen and taking down the two around him.

Steve stops two soldiers on Kurt’s left, grabbing their guns and crushing the barrels. Taking them out is quick - sharp hooks to their temples leave them crippling to the floor.

When a piercing  _clang_  rings past his ear, Steve instinctively ducks and turns. The soldier who fired is already moving her aim to Kurt.

Steve knows there's little time to warn him, but he tries regardless. The discharged bullet drowns his voice. Yet, Kurt’s on the other side of the room before the trigger had been pulled. When another sentry tries to advance from behind, a similar force knocks him away and smacks his head against the tile.

The distraction allows one of the operators to catch Steve off guard, the support of his pistol jamming itself into the base of his neck. A male and female soldier turn their concentration on him while he's astray, but Kurt’s between them in an instant. He shoves the blade of a rapier between the woman’s trigger guard, then forces the gun upwards as it fires. The second sword’s blade slices through the barrel of the man’s firearm.

 _Vibranium_ , Steve knows. Kurt's weapon choice was more advanced than he'd thought. He blocks another attempted assault from the operator and returns a blow to his stomach. The sentry launches backward from the strength.

Steve spins around to help Kurt, only to find his aid is unnecessary. Kurt’s legs are wrapping around the woman’s neck as he swings over her shoulders - very reminiscent of Natasha’s strike - and he twists his body downwards, forcing them both to the floor. But whereas she ends up on her back, Kurt’s on his feet and advancing on the second guard.

Kurt moves like performer - agile and quick, putting more focus on  _where_  he hits rather than how hard. Forcing himself to concentrate, Steve approaches the remaining control operators, both retrieving their pistols and ready to pick targets. He moves on the closest one, gripping his wrists as he lifts the handgun. However, he’s stronger than Steve anticipated and manages to force the blond back a few paces. With an attempted take down by a swift kick at his legs, Steve struggles to keep his balance. He doesn't notice the second engineer until he's within clear firing range.

But then Kurt’s  _above_  the operator, punting him into the control panel. The disruption is enough for Steve to overpower the man in his grasp, twisting his arm back and swinging around to slam the engineer against the wall behind them. Afterwards, all that fills the room are the soft groans of fallen guards and rough breathing of the two remaining fighters.

Kurt sheathes his rapiers; there's not a drop of blood on them. “That could've gone better.” He sounds pleased. Steve sets his sights on Sam’s camera, his friend’s focus off screen. They all appear to be; Sam, Clint, and Scott all have their attention in the same direction.

They must have heard their commotion. “Don't suppose there'd be an off switch,” He teases, turning to Kurt. The mutant has his eyes on the cameras, too; Wanda’s explicitly. Steve’s not certain Kurt had heard, for he gives no response besides a furrowed brow. “Kurt?” He tries again, and his name pulls him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry.” He says, tearing his gaze away. He looks over the system, hands on his hips. “This would be a lot easier if Kitty were here.” His words seem to be for himself, so Steve doesn’t question.

“Any ideas?”

There’s silence, then a shrug as Kurt reaches for a sword, “Just one.”

He pierces his weapon into the mainframe. The video flickers and audio crackles as spark fly from the network. Then the cameras go out.

Getting inside the room is the easiest entrance they've had. The mechanical doors slide open but Steve still tries squeezing his way through the moment they crack apart. Scott sees him first and nearly jumps up from his place on the floor.

“Cap!” He shouts, though Steve only spares him a gentle nod. His focus is primarily on Sam, who’s smiling carelessly.

“Look who decided to join the party.” He comments, making his way to the glass barrier between them. Though, he stops short, eyes suddenly stuck behind Steve’s shoulder. “Who’s this?” He nods to the figure almost shrouded in darkness.

Kurt startles. Steve smiles. “Everyone,” He addresses Scott and Clint, “this is Kurt Wagner. Kurt,” He turns to the younger man and extends his arm to gesture around, “everyone.”

Kurt offers the group a little nod, eyes darting to each cell. “Does he have a key?” He hears Clint question; he sounds exhausted.

Kurt focuses on his enclosure and smiles just slight. “Of sorts.” He faces Sam, “You might want to back up.”

Sam doesn't move, only glancing to Steve. “You can trust him.” He says, keeping ‘ _I think’_  to himself.

Kurt’s given three spaces prior to his disappearance from Steve’s side. When he reappears before Sam, all he says, “Everyone’s got a gimmick.” Yet, with a fond shake of his head, he takes the hand Kurt offers.

Like Steve, the teleportation disorientates Sam. He’s weak on his feet, so Kurt stays with him until he can stand. Then he moves to Scott.

“That’s so freaky.” Steve hears his acquaintance say, followed by the pausing of Kurt’s pace.

There’s silence, then a little laugh following, “I’m coming for you last.”

Scott makes a suppressed noise, somewhat between a laugh and gasp, as Kurt moves on to Clint. When Kurt disappears, Steve realizes he can hear it; it’s not quite a pop and he can’t name the sound which signals the mutation, though it’s clear and uniquely  _Kurt_.

As he reappears behind the glass, Clint by his feet. The older man doesn't react at first. He merely blinks up at Kurt, then unwinds his arms from around his knees. “What’s your name? I couldn’t hear.” He gestures vaguely at the clear barrier, “The glass.”

Kurt waits until Clint takes his hand to answer, “Kurt Wagner.”

Clint’s eyebrows furrow, recollection at the name, “Have we met before?”

Kurt’s jaw clenched tight, as does his grip. “Unlikely.” Is all he says, transporting them to join the rest of the team.

“My turn, right?” Scott asks, and Steve starts to nod.

He's cut off by Kurt’s: “Not yet.” Steve looks to Kurt with perplexity, “You’re still down one.”

“Wanda,” Clint says from Sam’s arms, “she's not on this floor.”

 _Given your team is_ mostly  _unpowered,_  Steve recalls Kurt’s comment from the jet, and frowns. “Where is she?”

“Level three?” Clint’s face twists with doubt, as if he were struggling to remember.

Steve gives a sharp nod, turning his attention to the mutant, “You know that floor?”

“Each level is identical to the other.” He explains, “She could be right below us. But, Steve,” He places a hand on his shoulder, “We haven't disabled any alarms for that floor. If we’re caught-”

 _That kid will kill you before Ross gets the chance._  Bucky’s voice invades his memory in that moment. “I'll keep watch,” He assures, “just be fast.”

The world collapses in steady chaos, and Steve begins to think he might have a handle on teleportation. Kurt, again, was right; the third floor is near identical to the top. Though, it’s lit dark and only one of the five cells is occupied.

Steve’s at the glass of Wanda’s cage in a heartbeat. She looks terrible, far worse than when they had met; her hair is in disarray, her eyes are circled dark and bloodshot. She hasn’t been sleeping, and Steve feels his throat tighten. Has she been eating? Has quarantine altered her mental state? _Is he too late?_

Kurt’s besides him, staring into the confine with an equal amount of concern. “Get her.” Steve doesn’t intend to sound harsh, but he fears if she stays inside this prison much longer her condition will worsen. Kurt doesn’t react to his sharp tone, vanishing instantly and materializing inside. Then there’s an explosion of noise and light; the cage’s dim luminosity shifts to flashing red. Steve winces away from the glass as a piercing alarm sounds, swiftly checking the nearest door for intruders. Yet, he sees Kurt shrink back at the sound, falling to a knee.

“Kurt!” He raises his voice over the alarm. The younger man shakes his head fiercely. _I’m fine_ , Steve reads. Even if he’s lying, Kurt pretends effortlessly. He shifts closer to Wanda who cowers back, watching with wild eyes.

"Wanda," He says, quiet and slow despite the alarms, "we're going to help you." He tries extending a hand, but Wanda's reaction doesn't alter: she moves further into herself. “ _Vrăjitoare mică_ ," Steve hears him say. He doesn't know the language, but Wanda perks up. Kurt lets himself smile, "There you are. You know me."

He feels Steve's eyes on him, but refuses to face him. Steve finds his word choice are odd - using  _me_ rather than  _us_. Whatever the reason, it's working. Wanda's no longer tense, more cautious than afraid. "I know you." She repeats, though it sounds more like a question on her lips. Kurt nods, outstretching his arm again. "I know you." She doesn't move. When Kurt does, she flinches. 

"Kurt." Steve says, "We need to hurry."

Kurt shakes his head, murmuring something to himself. Then his hand moves to his watch. He turns the surface around once, then back. And Kurt's gone. 

The creature now in his place shares only a handful of his features; same sharp jawline, hairstyle, body. Yet, olive skin is now deep blue, dark hazel eyes are solid gold, and a tail snaps in paced movements.

The creature doesn't spare Steve a glance, keeping its focus entirely on Wanda. She doesn't share Steve's stunned, petrified expression. She wears recognition. "Kurt." She first murmurs, finally allowing a hand -  _three fingered hand_ \- to be placed upon her shoulder.

They teleport a few spaces from Steve and he meets them halfway to place his hands upon Wanda’s shoulders, keeping her steady. Unlike Kurt - or whatever  _it_ is - Wanda recognizes Steve instantly.

The being watches Steve snap the brace around Wanda's neck - she inhales as if she’d been drowning - before it’s placing a hand on her arm and reaching the other towards him. Steve thinks it’s eyes narrow when they make contact, as if challenging Steve to say something. And he does want to say something:  _You’re not Kurt, why did you lie, what_ are _you-_

They are questions he can save. Steve takes its’ hand. 

When they return to the top floor, alarms blaring and crimson flashing, Sam stumbles away from the trio. Steve’s not sure if it’s from their entry or the indigo creature in their presence. Clint visibly tenses, eyes darting up and down as he examines it. Yet, he bravely steps closer to undo the jacket binding Wanda. Once she’s free, her arms are around his neck in a tight embrace. The being’s lips twist upwards, almost in a smile which has hints of familiar light. Then it remembers Steve, who has yet to pull his eyes away, and it’s face goes blank.

“Hello?” Scott’s voice rises over the alarms and anxious voice in Steve’s head, reminding the group that they’re not done yet. The creature turns its back on Steve, tail flicking before it’s gone.

"Christ-!" He hears Scott startle, then the echoing  _thump_ of him hitting the glass. It gives a distracted huff. 

"Do you want out?" Steve shakes his head; hearing Kurt’s voice come from that  _thing_  is disorienting. 

When Scott appears by Steve’s side, he’s doubling over - yet he still looks up to his rescuer and manages, “Where were you at the airport?”

“Steve,” Sam’s voice breaks his focus on  _not-Kurt_ , “what happened?”

“Wanda’s cell was triggered by mutation.” Steve hears Kurt’s voice.

He keeps his eyes set on Sam, who furrows his brows and asks, “From her?”

“From me.” Kurt admits. Steve can see the click in Sam’s head as he finally understands - Kurt’s abilities were genetic, not gifted.

“That doesn’t matter, now.” Steve’s words feel heavy in his mouth, “We need to go.”

The creature reacts by reaching for Wanda first, who grasps its’ hand happily. Clint reluctantly takes the other, while Sam clasps a shoulder. Scott grabs its’ tail, which smacks the side of his head in response. Scott’s startled, “Hey,” is trailed by Kurt’s laughter.

Steve doesn't make any move until Sam jerks his head towards the blue individual in a mute, _Let’s go!_

“Captain,” It says, all gold eyes and pointed teeth and, “please.” Steve moves at the plea, because he knows that soft expression etched with concern. He grips into its’- Kurt’s free shoulder.

He prepares for the world to disappear. But it doesn't, not for three seconds, not ten, not thirty. “Kurt?” Wanda sounds troubled. Kurt shakes his head at her unspoken question. He can’t teleport, Steve realizes.

“I can do it, just-”

He's interrupted by shouts, all followed by rapid footfall. Steve moves to block Wanda, Sam, and Kurt from the impending intruders. Clint and Scott both stand taller, though they’re aware of the little they can do against bullets. But, if it will buy Kurt the time he needs, Steve will stand ground. 

The first soldier who steps into his line of sight already has her firearm raised. However, he sees Wanda extend her arm. The first two bullets never reach them, stopped by scarlet. Then the vision transforms, and Steve welcomes familiar dark Wakandan interior. He count heads, ensuring no one's been left behind.

Thankfully, everyone is accounted for. "You okay?" He asks, question directed towards anyone listening. He receives a variety of moans and complaints. Therefore, a resounding  _yes_.

Until he focuses on Kurt, whose breathing is notably slower. Kurt, who has yet to respond to his voice. Kurt, who’s staring ahead while not looking - Steve recognizes the expression. As does Sam, who catches Kurt when exhaustion takes him. Steve’s at his side in a breath, helping settle the mutant on one of the jet’s bench seats.

“He’ll be okay,” Sam claims, though it does little to calm Steve. All which runs through his head is,  _He’s going to die, I’m letting him die, Ororo is going to kill me._

Sam leaves his side, replaced with Wanda, as he wanders to the cockpit. “Can you fly this?” Clint asks.

“I can try to contact traffic control.” Sam replies. Steve can help, he knows. He can get contact with T’Challa, therefore get Kurt help in Wakanda. Though, he finds it difficult to walk away from the companion.

“Cap,” Clint’s hand is on his shoulder, forcing him to face him, “I’ll watch him.”

The offer makes him hesitate. He feels as if Kurt is his responsibility, they've been protecting each other this far. Leaving the burden to Clint didn't settle well.

But then Clint smiles and Steve's on his feet. He can trust the archer, he’ll be told if anything goes wrong. So, he goes to the cockpit.

* * *

When he wakes, the world is fluid. That's the best way Kurt can describe it; flowing together but not quite whole, feeling real and dreamlike at once. Colors appear before shapes and details, but he’s aware of his location. The awareness makes him groan; he can't recall the last excursion which took so much out of him.  

He tries to sit up, but his stomach lurches and body aches in protest. He drops back onto the seat, listening to the low hum of the jet’s engine until the pain subsides.

“I knew your name was familiar.” Clint startles him; he hadn’t noticed the archer's surveillance. “Kurt Wagner,” He murmurs, and Kurt prepares himself for the following ‘Nightcrawler’ or ‘X-Man.’ He knows how to deflect from those old titles. But not, “The Blue Devil.”

The rapidity at which he spins his head makes his sight tilt. He hadn’t heard that name in decades. “ _Was?_ ” He questions, forcing himself up. Clint watches from across the plane.

“That’s your name in the circus, right?” The way he speaks about Kurt’s past is composed; he behaves as if it’s common knowledge.  

“It use to be.” He carefully replies, “How-?” Is all he can manage. Clint understands, regardless.

“Knew these kids from a traveling circus. They use to brag about visiting Europe, and every time they came back they would talk about one performer with blue skin and a tail.”

Kurt must visibly tense, because Clint smiles. “They only had good things to say. Claimed he could jump from one end of the arena to the other in seconds.” Kurt says nothing, unconsciously replaying his performances.

“Also said he could beat my ass on the trapeze.” Clint crosses his arms. “When you started showing up on the news in New York, I thought it was a coincidence.” He chuckles, “I bet my brother forty dollars you were a costume.”

Kurt feels a grin tug at the corners of his lips. “They were right. Those boys.” He says, “I’d beat you on the trapeze.”

Clint beams, “Would love to see you try a bow.”

Kurt’s head feels lighter when he laughs, reality becoming clear. He can hear Steve’s voice, likely with Wilson in the cockpit. His gaze rests on Wanda, who had decided Scott was a fine pillow halfway down Clint’s seating. Not that he seemed to mind; both were asleep.

“How does she know you?” Clint asks, his tone suddenly earnest. Kurt considers ignoring the question, replicating fatigue to avoid answering. Lying is a another option, he supposed. Or, Clint didn’t need to know the whole truth.

“I was in Sokovia about two years before you dropped it from the sky.” He says, “I met her there.”

“She never mentioned you.” The words sting, just slightly. Kurt only clenches his jaw and feigns a smile. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about her.”

Clint doesn’t reply for a beat, letting the words hang. “Did you know she volunteered for Strucker?”

Kurt wants to laugh, or maybe scream, at the question. “Trust me, the Maximoff’s would never help Hydra.”

A cough brings Kurt’s account to a close. Steve stands in the entrance of the cockpit, regarding Clint. “Sam could use another pair of eyes.” Clint takes the hint, getting up from his position to take over Steve’s. Kurt expects the Captain to take place across from him, but when he settles besides him, Kurt lifts his tail to make room. “Thank you for helping me. For helping them.” Steve speaks quietly, though he shouldn’t need to.

Kurt doesn’t react, his body tense. Too reminiscent of the cover he had when they first met. “It was my job.”

“I’m pretty sure your job was getting me in and out. Not saving them.”

Kurt turns his head, and it’s the only way Steve knows he’s looking at him, “I couldn’t sit by when I knew I could do more.”

Steve feels his chest tighten, and he wonders if this was how Bucky felt; knowing someone who had a high sense of morality but no consideration for their own safety. Then Steve realizes no, perhaps not.

 _Men are out there risking their lives...I’ve got no reason to do any less._  The pressure is pride, not fear. “No, you couldn’t.”

* * *

By the time the jet has grounded in Wakanda, Kurt’s blue is concealed. It’s difficult to look at him and not imagine the way his tail must be twitching or note how his brown eyes have a golden tint. He stays on the jet as the rest of the team steps out, waiting to help Wanda walk steady though he isn't entirely stable himself.

Steve watches him lead her to Ororo, who takes Wanda’s hand and speaks in hushed words. Steve understood there were pieces of his team’s lives he has no access to. There are pieces of Bucky’s life, his new one, which Steve will never gain entry. However, as he examines the way the trio interacts, history tying them back together, Steve wishes he could know more.

Surprisingly, Scott is the one to break his trance, stepping into his line of sight.

“I don’t know if I should say this,” He starts, “but I was starting to believe you left us there.” Steve must appear amused, because Scott smiles wide. He doesn't know Lang well; he had trusted Sam and his claim that he was someone they could trust. Scott was living up to the praise. “I'm really glad you came back.”

“Is now the time for tearful goodbyes?” He hears Clint, carefree as ever.

“You heading home?” He asks as the archer takes place besides Scott. He glances over his shoulder - surely at Wanda - but nods. “Be careful,” Steve warns, “They could be monitored.”

“We’ve prepared for this situation.” Clint assures.

“You might have to relocate.”

“Well,” Clint smiles, “Laura and I had been talking about moving to a bigger place.”

When Sam starts his stride towards them, the pair excuse themselves back to the jet.

“Wouldn’t happen to know where Natasha is.” He teases.

Steve smiles, yet shakes his head. “Her and Sharon are M.I.A. Neither have contacted me.”

“That’s smart.” Sam shrugs, “Probably shouldn’t tell you where I’m heading. Gotta stay off radar.”

“Not too far, I hope.”

Sam laughs, though he’s drowned by a voice calling out among the commotion: “Captain.”

As Steve turns, he sees T’Challa and Kurt; though he isn't  _Kurt_ , he prompts. It’s a lie which their friendship was based upon.

 _The Queen’s Protector_  was his disguise. A young, confident fighter with a fierce sense of integrity - that was Kurt. But a wicked tail, blue skin, and striking yellow eyes - that was Kurt, too.

Sam acknowledges the nobility as he murmurs, “We’ll wait for you,” and pardons himself to join the rest of the group.

“Your teammates have sanctuaries, yes?” Kurt questions.

“Of sorts.” He says, glancing to T’Challa, “Some might need help getting there.”

The King appears to still be considering it even as his head bows. “I'll see what I can do.”

Steve nods, grateful. Everyone has a safe space; everyone, he’s aware, except for a young woman who has lost her home twice. “And Wanda?”

“We’ll keep her here.” T’Challa doesn't ponder to answer - he has already thought it over, “Kurt is already familiar with her. If she has nowhere else, I place her under his watch.”

T’Challa rests a hand on Kurt’s shoulder before he's gone to talk to Nakia. In that moment, Steve wonders if he knows the lie Kurt wears. T’Challa and his father had been ready to  _sign_ the Accords, yet Kurt appears to hold no anger against royalty. Perhaps that is another mask.

Steve is left with the facade and his familiar silence, both of which he welcomes.

He starts, “I need to thank you-”

“You've already done so.”

“Let me do it again.” Kurt doesn't object a second time, allowing for Steve to say, “Thank you, for being a friend.”

Kurt’s easy smile flounders, and Steve panics. “I would not call us friends yet, Captain.” He speaks with monotone, expression flickering between apathetic and content. “But...thank you, for considering me one.”

There is more he should say, if this is goodbye. He takes an interruption as a sign it’s not: “Rogers,” T’Challa echoes, “Barnes is asking for you.”

Steve’s moving with little thought, ready to follow Nakia. “Steve,” Kurt’s voice halts him, “If you don't have a hideaway, may I suggest Canada? My friend, he lives there.”

“You're sure he’ll help?”

“Tell him the Elf sent you.” He all but smiles, “He won't turn you away if it's a favor from me.”

Steve delays a response, unsure of the suggestion. “Where can I find him?”

“Alberta. Check the bars.” He pauses, but Steve waits for the finished thought: “He goes by Logan, now.”

Steve’s not certain he’ll find  _Logan_ , should he take the offer. He nods regardless, and Kurt reads it as his cue to leave. The end of their mission, their conversation.

As he slowly starts back towards the medical wing, Steve watches Kurt take his place besides Ororo, returning to his role as both outsider and defender. A mantle Steve understands.

 _Not friends yet._  It's a shame, he'd like to call Kurt a friend rather than acquaintance or enemy.

Wakanda reminds Steve of worlds he read of in novels, filled with magic and Gods and elves. He's glad it’s his reality.

**Author's Note:**

> Kurt and Ororo's conversation:  
> “I cannot help him.”  
> “You can, you can get inside.”  
> “Fine. Then I do not want to.”
> 
> Let me know what you think and/or if you want more stories like this. I could do a series if I'm encouraged.  
> tumblr: goldenicarus@tumblr.com  
> twitter: @IcarusGolden


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